


A Season for (Semi) Old Men

by Tex



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-17
Updated: 2011-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-19 12:25:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tex/pseuds/Tex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The tables are turned and John doesn't like it. Post-Atlantis future fic. NOT a death fic.</p>
    </blockquote>





	A Season for (Semi) Old Men

**Author's Note:**

> The tables are turned and John doesn't like it. Post-Atlantis future fic. NOT a death fic.

They release Rodney from the hospital just before noon. He squawks when they don’t let him stay for lunch.

John keeps his arm around Rodney’s waist from the car into the house. Rodney pretends that he doesn’t need it but he leans into John every step of the way, secretly grateful for the support. Plus, Rodney’s been cold a lot lately and John’s body is warm.

When they reach the bed, Rodney is breathing a little heavily and struggles not to show it. John doesn’t call him on it but there’s a little crease between his eyes that tells Rodney he’s noticed.

He’s dressed in loose clothing -- a faded, soft pair of Air Force Academy sweats -- so he doesn’t have to change. He steps out of his slippers before John helps him in and pulls the covers over his legs.

“As much as we paid for that room and they won’t give me a to-go box? It’s outrageous.” His voice is still on the thin side; the doctors say it will improve over time and Rodney is impatient for that day to arrive. He has no hope of scaring the minions when his voice has all the power of someone’s grandfather.

John puts the remote in Rodney’s hand. “You’re a freak, you know that?”

“What? Because I like hospital food?”

“That’s only the beginning.” John takes Rodney’s medications out of the white paper bag from the pharmacy and lines them up on the bedside table.

Rodney huffs loudly. “Real nice, Sheppard. Insult the dying guy.” He turns on the TV and suddenly, Sheppard’s making for the door. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll get you some water. Be right back.”

He flips around for a while but there’s nothing on TV to hold his interest. John doesn’t come back so Rodney slips into a light doze, the white noise of something on The Learning Channel in the background.

The barely there press of fingertips into his palm wakes Rodney and without moving his head, he opens his eyes to see the top of John’s head. He’s pulled a chair next to the bed and is sitting forward, one hand in a fist against his forehead and his other hand curled into Rodney’s where it rests on the mattress.

“Hey, you.” John’s head comes up, startled. Rodney gets a only a split second to notice how bruised his eyes look before John’s up and reaching for the glass of water next to the medicines.

“Uh, I’ve got the water. You should take – ” John pauses to read the labels on the prescriptions. His voice sounds strange -- gravelly, like it does when he doesn’t get enough sleep. Rodney’s chest starts to ache and for a moment, it scares him. But then, he realizes that it’s John, it’s just _John_.

“Shut up and get over here.”

“Rodney, the doctor said you should take these as soon as we got home. ”

Rodney shifts his butt over to make room. “Yes, well, I’m a doctor, too and I say sit down.”

John looks disgruntled but does as he asks. But he sits carefully, holding himself stiffly so as not to touch Rodney, as if the slightest contact would shatter him. Which is possibly one of the dumbest things Rodney has ever seen him do. And considering their history, that says _volumes._

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Rodney mutters and works his arm around John’s shoulders, pulling him snug against him. John struggles weakly then gives in, all the way, turning his face into Rodney’s neck, resting his head on Rodney’s shoulder.

It takes him a moment to compose himself. The doctors say it’s normal to be a little over-emotional during recovery, but that thankfully it will pass. Rodney can’t wait for that moment because he hates the idea that he’s going to get choked up every time it occurs to him how lucky he is.

When he can manage to do so, Rodney turns his head against John’s. “Stop it, all right?” he says against John’s still abundant hair. “I’m fine.”

John’s hand comes up to fist in the front of Rodney’s shirt. “I know that,” he says, but his words sound thin and reedy.

“Do you? Because you’re acting like a soon-to-be-widow.”

“Don’t make fun of me.” John’s voice is muffled and hot against Rodney’s skin.

“All those black clothes in our closet are finally going to be useful.”

“Can’t you be serious?”

Rodney grins. “Serious as a heart attack?”

John raises his head and glares. “Dammit, Rodney.”

It’s something of a new role for him, playing the comedian to Sheppard’s straight man, but Rodney starts to relax into it. “Oh, lighten up, Sheppard. It was only a double by-pass. If I’d had a couple of mirrors, I probably could have done the surgery myself.”

“Jesus.” John sits up, his expression angry. There are a few more lines on that face, more sun, more laughter over the past few years. The years look good on him -- they always have.

“Look, don’t joke about this. The whole thing was --” John shudders and in that moment, Rodney sees a shadow of fear in John’s eyes. “-- I don’t want to ever go through that again, so stop being a wise ass. It’s not funny.”

Rodney relents at that point. He can’t stand seeing John afraid for him. It’s a very unnatural state and Rodney looks at him gently. “Okay, I get it. Believe me. Now you know how I felt every time you were in the infirmary in Atlantis.”

“Sucks,” John mutters and oh, great, he’s pouting now. His bottom lip is wet and pink and it’s as irresistible as it’s always been.

“Yeah,” Rodney says, pulling John back down again and wrapping both arms tight around him, “I know.” John latches onto the same bunch of shirt that he had previously and it makes Rodney’s chest ache pleasantly. It doesn’t scare him this time, though. “But I’m fine now, everything is fine,” he says soothingly and John sighs and finally relaxes against him.

A yawn catches him off guard, a jaw snapping one that makes John chuckle. “Naptime?”

“Naptime. For both of us. Then you can feed me.”

He feels John’s lips brush against his ear lobe. “I can’t promise you it will be as bad as the hospital food.”

Rodney closes his eyes and snuggles in. “I can live with that.”


End file.
